Mein Professorin
by FancyFreeThinker101
Summary: A series of drabbles about Jo and her Fritz, from his perspective. Takes place after the book. Rating may be subject to change. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Friedrich Bhaer stood dazedly at the entrance to Plumfield, grinning. This in itself was not an uncommon occurence; the Professor was known by his boys as a genial fellow, and indeed he was. What was not quite ordinary was the_ reason_ for his smile…  
The Professor sighed, gaze unfocused. Just a moment ago (a moment, a few days, a year, prut! Who could tell?), he had been admiring the lush disorder of the school gardens when his wife, his own Jo, had come up the path, rosy and laughing and rumpled from the wind. He had smiled (ach! Had he smiled! With such loveliness before him, what else could he do?), and started to wave, when she had run up and, before he could inquire of his Professorin what she was thinking, kissed him with much… much…he knew not the word. All he knew was that his greeting had died on his lips, and he had returned the kiss (such a cold phrase for such a warm, lovely thing!) hungrily until she pulled away, smiling up at him and stroking his cheek with a thin brown hand while he tried to collect his tumbled thoughts.  
"I...I..."  
He could say no more; laughing, she'd shook her head and said, with a nearly mischievous air:  
"Hello, Professor. Haven't you a class to be teaching?"  
And then she'd run off on some errand, leaving him where he stood now, smiling dreamily at the garden and thinking that his Jo was the most...exciting...woman he'd ever known...  
And the boys were bewildered as to why the Professor stared frankly at his wife all through dinner.


	2. Staring

There were times when Friedrich Bhaer simply liked to stare at his wife.

They talked, yes, they talked, about any and everything, and often Jo would become caught up in her own words, waving her hands and letting the chatter flow, miles a minute...he liked to stare then. He liked to look at her face, at the way her cheeks were always pink when she grew excited, at the way her hair tumbled loose of its confinements, at the wild heedlessness of her large grey eyes.

Often, he would lose track of what she was saying (it was easy enough) and just look, letting himself...what was the word..._enjoy_ it. This would last until she noticed-which, being Jo,she did fairly quickly, and often humorously.

"You look abstracted, Professor," she'd say, laughing up at him. "Pondering metaphysics?"

Ach, she did not know...she never knew. With a smile, he would ruefully admit that he was in the clouds, as they said...and the conversation would go on.

Many times she'd sit at a battered old desk set just for her, and write, write, write...he liked to stare at her then, too. He'd look at her mouth, set and determined, at the way she would bite her bottom lip when she thought over plots, at the way her eyes flashed when she had the idea...

Once, she'd caught him; she had been scribbling away, tongue between her teeth, and he had been trying to immerse himself in a book he was usually fond of...at last, he had given up, setting the book down and (he blushed to think of it) gawking at her...slowly, she had become aware, and at last looked up, her brown face alight and-ah,temptation!-spattered with ink...

"What _are_ you staring at, Fritz?" she'd asked, half amused, half puzzled. He had turned a decided crimson, and struggled to find the excuse...the one he at last found was feeble.

"Thou had ink on thy nose, Professorin."

"Oh?" Jo had said, scrubbing at the spot most un-romantically. "Is it off?"

"No, mein Jo, not quite,"he'd replied, smiling now. "There is some on thy mouth, too...may I help?"

Jo had assented gratefully, if with some of what they called the school girl's blush on her cheeks, and it was a long time before she returned to her writing.

He liked to look at her, too, when...when...he knew not a way to say it to make it sound as lovely as it was...when they were alone together in the evenings, just they two, and her hair was loose, and her lean brown self was just visible in the dim light...

Unashamed, he would simply stare...and this was is favorite time to do so, for at these times his Jo would stare back.


End file.
